All Your Light: The 13th Hunger Games
by Warhawk101
Summary: Its the 13th year of the dreaded Hunger Games when 17 year old Logan Cooper is picked. How will he, his girlfriend, and a cast of other characters react to these games, and more importantly how will they survive? OCs. Rated M for: Violence, Language, & Sex
1. It's Time

First ever story on here :) Tell me what you people think. Its rated M for language and well, gore later on and sex. Yay. Uploads are gonna be slow but with summer coming hopefully I can start writing more. I put the songs used for each chapter into heavy consideration so please check em out, they're pretty cool and related to the chapter. If I ever finish this yes, it will have a sequel.

"All Your Light" by Portugal. The Man is the title inspiration for the entire story and an upcoming chapter.

So I don't own the Hunger Games or any songs listed in here :) Enjoy.

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It's Time by Imagine Dragons

**-Logan: District 7 **

It seemed like I had only been asleep for a few minutes when the soft sound of bird song wakes me and after a minute of debate I hesitantly open my green eyes. I glance to the side towards the window but all I can see is darkness; it's too early, probably around five in the morning. Eliciting a deep sigh I carefully shift my weight as gently as I can without moving the bed, trying to not disturb my partner.

My eyes pause on her and I can't help but smile, resting my head on my hand as I gaze at my girlfriend, Marilyn. She's so cute, just lying there without a care in the world, her mind off somewhere in sleep. After deciding that I had enough time of watching her snooze, I carefully get up off the soft bed, wincing as my leg swings around and hits the floor causing a creak to ring out from the bed. I shiver at the ice cold feel of the wooden floors on my bare feet but I quickly get up, the bed bouncing up slightly without my weight.

Marilyn's cute little face scrunches up slightly, her body turning and hugging my pillow, unaware that I am no longer in the bed. Smiling slightly, I decide to continue with my daily routine which included as many sit ups and push-ups as I can muster, this time an added challenge accompanying my task as I tried to be quiet and not wake her.

When that's done, I quickly get dressed in the clothes I had brought over to my girlfriend's house. Then I leave the house, jogging past the other wealthy houses and all the way to the forest where my feet take me down a familiar path. It's when I've jogged some time that I begin to slow down, my senses recognizing where I am even in the low light. After a quick sweep of the area around me my eyes narrow in on some certain shrubbery and I move some of the branches aside, revealing my axe's hidden place. The Reaping starts at 11 AM and the sun is only just rising, telling me that I have plenty of time, just as long as I give some to my girlfriend. Then with my axe in hand I run farther down to the designated logging area, ready to do my daily amount of chin-ups as well when I get there.

**-Marilyn: District 7 **

My eyelids give a violent twitch as invasive light seeps in, awakening my conscience and I quickly roll over, trying to avoid it as best as I can. Instead of bumping into a familiar warm body, I'm surprised when my roll takes me farther down my bed, nothing there to stop me. It's then that I notice I'm hugging a pillow that smells like the scent of my boyfriend. Squinting my eyes, I groan, punching the pillow halfheartedly. "Logan."

Of course he's not there. The one night I asked him to let me sleep with him and he leaves early for work. What a boyfriend.

I get up and start to make my bed, tossing the covers and pillows together till it looks presentable. When that job is done, I head to my bathroom to draw myself a bath, only getting lukewarm water from the pipes. My family is a part of the upper middle class so we're allowed luxuries such as plumbing and fresher water, which from being in Logan's house, is much better than the lower class but at the same time nothing near the high class. In fact, I've heard that some families located in the Yard don't even get running water at all. It's sad.

Soon my long brown hair and my body is freshly scrubbed and died, ready to be clothed in the richest material that I own. I don't know when it started but everyone wears their fanciest clothes on Reaping day- maybe when this all began it was an order by the Capitol to show just how poor our idea of "fancy" was. Deciding that today I can afford to use a little luxury, I add lipstick and mascara to my looks, combing out my hair when that is done. It's funny but such simple actions can really change how a person looks.

By the time I walk to the kitchen for breakfast the sun is up in the sky, casting its brilliant light down on all below. Logan better get here soon, I scowl to myself as I make oatmeal, adding a bit of honey for flavor. "Dear, don't make faces at your food, your face might just freeze and you will be stuck wearing that dreadful expression forever," my mother chides. I give a tired nod, "Yes ma'am."

**-Logan: District 7**

I inwardly curse as I log in my working hours, rushing out of the lumber yard as my feet took me as fast as they could down to my house, my axe still in hand. I still needed to stop by my house and get ready for the Reaping before meeting up with my girlfriend, I realize horrified.

I get to my house faster than when I jogged down from Marilyn's, probably because the lower class houses are located closer to the logging area while the higher class is allowed some space away from all that. I burst through my front door, almost slashing the doorframe with my axe as I quickly enter. Unfortunately someone has beaten me here.

"You're late!" Marilyn trills, looking particularly annoyed at me.

"I forgot the time!" I lamely defend, setting my working axe down by the door and hurriedly kicking my boots off. It's obvious that she's not buying my story though, as she knows fully well I know how to read the sun.

She gives me an exasperated sigh. "Here," she says as she shoves my Reaping clothes at me along with a bowl of oatmeal with honey. I bend down and give my tiny girlfriend a grateful kiss before darting to my room to change and eat my breakfast as quickly as I can. I should probably try to take a bath but I know that at this point I shouldn't test fate too much.

**-Marilyn, District 7**

I barely hide my blush from Logan's parents, who are busying themselves in the kitchen. Luckily it seems they have no idea that he spent the night out at my place because they treat me kindly as always. Knowing my boyfriend will take some time, I sit down with them and make small talk with Logan's father over the Capitol's sudden demand over oak and how Logan's mother couldn't dry their sheets with all the rain we were recently getting.

Eventually though Logan comes out, dressed handsomely in custom made clothes my family bought him because his family was too poor to afford any clothes for his outrageously tall frame. He has on tan brown pants with matching suspenders crossing over the plain white shirt he wore, a dashing brown vest sitting over that. Bonus points, he didn't spill any food on himself and I can smell that he's chewing some mint leaves like always.

"You look good," I tell him, as we step outside after saying goodbye to his parents who were heading out for the Reaping later. He flashes me a shy smile, looking rather uncomfortable in the suit. I notice that he is slouched, and he has his thumbs in his pockets as he kicks a woodchip down the red brick road we're walking down that leads off to the Town Square where most of the shops and the Justice Building are located.

"It's not that I don't feel good in this suit, I just hate the circumstances that sent me into this," he explains, "We only wear it to look good for those Capitol bastards anyway."

I give him a shocked look, quickly glancing around and hoping that no one heard him. Luckily we haven't gotten to the Square yet where all the cameras are located. "Logan, don't say that! You're not going to be chosen—"

"Marilyn! Nobody is truly safe from these games! Anyone can be chosen, no matter how poor or rich they are!" He says seriously, his voice loud and his expression a mixture of seriousness and anger. For a second I'm worried that I've made him mad, but the next moment I know he's picked me up in a massive bear hug, the wind rustling my dress and making me feel vulnerable.

"Mar, please never downplay the severity of the Games, okay? And I only agreed to sleep with you because we're almost done with these Games, but it doesn't mean that we won't be chosen," he tells me, green eyes boring into me with such intensity I feel the need to look away from his gaze.

The rest of our walk is spent in silence, though it is comfortable and our hands are holding onto each other's like our lives depend on it. We slow down as we start to meet the crowds, joining the lines to sign in as the camera crews, perched on buildings like vultures, set things up for the big show. "Marilyn, I love you," Logan tells me, bending down for a short but passionate kiss as he moves to the front of the line to get his finger pricked, his blood smearing onto the paper that reads his name. He walks off to the male 17 year olds section and I step up, wincing at the sharp jab of the needle as my blood too is drawn. As soon as I wipe it across the paper I stick my index finger in my mouth, licking the blood away and going off to join the girl's 17 year old section.

It's not hard for me to spot Logan again though, as his height makes him stick out like a sore thumb, towering high above the other boys around him. He isn't far from me, hanging at the edge of his section in the back, probably talking to his parents. Our mayor begins the yearly Treaty of Treason, his voice sounding sad and yet bored with the whole thing- it's obvious he can't wait for it to finish. Soon it's finished and a brightly colored woman steps up, heels clicking against the stage as she reaches for the microphone, which makes a horrible screeching moment for a second, all the camera's lining up on her. I see our only Victor wince at the sound of the microphone, sitting tiredly in a chair by the mayor.

"Welcome, welcome District 7 and happy Hunger Games! My, what lovely weather this is, perfect for Reaping day!" she squeals in that foreign accent of the Capitol's. She is surprisingly young and I recognize her as a new escort, the one from the last few years having not shown up. "My name is Britannia Meyers and I will be your District's new escort this year and hopefully for many more to come!" she chirps. Well, so far she isn't as bizarre as our other escorts, maybe she isn't that bad.

"Okay everyone, now that the show has started how about I draw the name of our lucky female tribute!" she says, her gloved hand making a dramatic gesture of going in the bowl and mixing up all the hundreds of slips before finally plucking one out. My adrenaline spikes as she unfolds it, Logan's words ringing in my head and turning my blood cold. 7 of those slips have my name on it.

"This year's tribute… Clarissa Merope!" she declares happily. I exhale a breath I didn't know I was holding, one more year of these dreaded Games and then I will be free. My eyes spot movement from the 18 year olds section and a stunned girl walks out, clutching her stomach.

"No! You can't!" a desperate male voice screams, shoving their way past the tributes that willingly part for him. "You can't take her!" the mangy boy begs, his silver eyes wide and voice shaking. I'm surprised to see that I recognize the boy; he used to be in some of my classes before dropping out. His name is Wesley Bass but everyone calls him Buzzard. He and his older brother Robert are considered unclean by the whole district for if a loved one died, you went to them for the burial. They are the district's Undertakers, the morticians, the gravediggers, everything in between that has to do with death.

"You can't take her! Please, take someone else! Someone fucking volunteer!" he screams, eyes swimming with tears. His girlfriend, Clarissa, is crying quietly, and as she hobbles her way up the stairs everyone else and I can see why he is so distraught. She is heavily pregnant, her belly looking like any day now she will give birth to his child. The crowd immediately starts muttering melancholy words, voices grave and upset. The Capitol cameramen are going nuts however, lapping up this drama as their cameras took in the whole chaotic scene.

"I volunteer! Please, anything to save her!" he begged again, tears visibly streaming down his face now. A Peacekeeper, who must be familiar with Buzzard, walks up to take him away. "Wesley, you're 19. You can't volunteer," he sighed, sounding half exasperated and half saddened by his plight. The words are barely out of his mouth however before Buzzard suddenly lashes out, twisting his body and raising his right leg where he roundhouse kicked the Peacekeeper squarely in the jaw, knocking him down.

The crowd is stunned into silence, everyone watching. It's so quiet you can hear the sounds made from the Capitol cameras. Buzzard lunges, his sights probably aimed at the escort but he is almost immediately taken down, tackled from the back by a bigger and heavier looking Peacekeeper. He struggles violently in the scuffle and starts to gain the upper hand, his fist smashing into the Peacekeeper's face. He would have won the fight too if another Peacekeeper didn't jab him in the side with a black rectangular object, sharp electric clicks being heard from the instrument as they came in contact with him.

He jerked off of the Peacekeeper violently, a muffled cry being heard as his body tried to move away from the object. Within seconds of the rectangular instrument clicking into his side however he slumps over, falling unconsciously on his side.

The crowd is still silent as two burly Peacekeepers drag the tall form of Wesley Bass roughly to the Justice Building. I can only imagine how many lashes he will get for that. Now the only sounds heard across the entire Square are the sounds of a small child crying and Clarissa's muffled sobs, echoing off the red bricked Square. The Capitol must be having a field day with this.

Britannia Meyers gives an unsure smile, confused by all the chaos of what to do now. Seemingly remembering though, she tip toes over to the boy's glass ball of slips now. "Now for our male tribute!" she declares, but her voice isn't as spunky or loud as it was before. She dips her hand in the bowl but doesn't give as much of a show as she did earlier, simply grabbing a slip and bringing it up.

"Logan Cooper!"

**-Logan: District 7 Tribute **

"Logan Cooper!" the pink haired escort squawks, some of her original flourish back. Wait… Shit. "Logan Cooper, are you here?" she repeats, glancing around the boy's section confused as she tried to search out the chosen tribute, aka me.

As if in a trance, my legs carry me obediently out of the crowd of boys and I walk up to the stage, my body carrying me up the stairs as my brain remained a fuzzy station of static. "My goodness, you are a really big boy!" Britannia chirps, apparently seeing a lot more potential in me than in the sobbing form of Clarissa. I'm probably a whole foot and a half taller than Clarissa and at least a foot taller than the mayor.

"Well, let's welcome this year's District 7 tributes, Clarissa Merope and Logan Cooper!" Britannia cheers, grabbing our hands and raising them. She manages to bring Clarissa's hand up to the sky but mine is limp, only reaching near my face which shows just how short she is or how tall I am. This draws out nervous applause from the crowd, and quickly we are ushered to the back, almost walking into our Victor and now mentor before being taken to the nearby Justice Building where we are both taken to separate and private rooms.

I collapse in the soft leather couch, running my hand along the scratchable leather where my fingers twitch to rake my nails down the piece of furniture and ruin it forever. My mind is made up though as Marilyn bursts in, sobbing, and the couch is completely forgotten as she flies at me, arms wrapping around my neck.

"Oh, Logan!" she cries, tears leaking out of her soft brown eyes like little facets. "I'm such a horrible girlfriend! I was making fun of the Games earlier and now it's so real!" she sobs, curling up in my lap as her body shakes.

I begin to stroke her hair which I think calms both of us a little, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Mar, get a grip. This isn't your fault, it's no ones. Only the Capitol's." My voice is surprisingly calm, especially considering how my brain is just starting to catch up on things.

"I'm probably never going to see you again!" she cries, burying her face into my chest, tears staining the white shirt and vest she bought for me once. "Hey, is that doubt I hear in your voice?" I ask her mockingly, adding humor to the situation for the sake of both of us.

"Babe, I'm gonna try my hardest to get back home for you and everyone else, or die trying. Literally. Whatever actions you see me doing on the TV just remember the true me, okay? TV Logan is different to your Boyfriend Logan. And do me another favor, I know you used to know the girl tribute's boyfriend so how about you watch out for him? Okay?"

I falter, not sure what else to say. "Marilyn, just remember I love you and you're a great girlfriend and—" She cuts me off by planting her soft lips against my own and she shifts slightly in my lap so that we both feel more comfortable.

Eventually we part for air as the Peacekeeper interrupts us to let me know I have more visitors. I give her one last kiss goodbye as I prepare to see my family which consists of my mother, father, and mother's sister along with some friends. Then it's all over and I'm rushed out, walking down the train station and up to the train itself. The cameras are once again clicking away and the wind has picked up, ruffling my short hair and whipping Clarissa's around. Then, we enter the train, and District 7 disappears behind me.


	2. Bittersweet Symphony

Hey everyone. Just wanted to address something real quick- many of the main characters here don't have very Hunger Gamesy names because all of them are original characters created by me long ago. I just decided to throw them into a Hunger Games for the fun of it. The outside characters will have more Hunger Gamesed names though. Tell me what you think- critique is welcome.

I don't own the Hunger Games and I don't own the Verve nor did I write or partake in them singing "Bittersweet Symphony". Anyway, enjoy.

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Bittersweet Symphony by The Verve

**-Logan: District 7 Tribute**

I'm ushered into a dining room-like area, almost tripping over the transition to carpet. The room contains a large table with crystal glasses and pristine silverware, ready to serve us; hallways that lead to the front of the train and others in the back probably leading to what I can assume are our tribute rooms; and an open doorway that leads into another room filled with plush couches and chairs, a large TV screen mounted on the wall.

As soon as I finish my glance over of the train compartments, I notice the shadowy figure that had been largely avoiding the spotlight since the Reaping. Her name is Elissa Banks, and she is the winner of the 7th Hunger Games and now my de facto mentor. Behind us Britannia squeals in excitement and insists that me and Clarissa sit down at the large table with her, pausing briefly to help Clarissa sit. Once we were both sitting down, Elissa lazily joining us, Britannia addressed us.

"Today's the day! A very important day!" she shrilled in that high pitched Capitol accent of hers. She claps her hands and the action calls forth two white clad servants, both who pour us drinks without asking us what we wanted. I'm given water.

"Can I go to my room and change?" Clarissa asks meekly, her voice sounding hoarse from her breakdown. Britannia gives an energetic nod, "Of course, dear! Lunch will be ready at one." Clarissa politely nods but then darts off as quickly as she can to the tribute room hall. After an awkward moment of Britannia beaming at me and Elissa deep in her own world, I quickly follow Clarissa down the hall, not bothering to excuse myself.

I duck just enough to avoid hitting the door frame and get a quick glimpse of Clarissa disappearing into a room. A few strides later and I too have found my own room. Opening the door I find a large king sized bed awaiting me in the middle of the room, a fluffy brown comforter draped over it with pine green sheets sticking out underneath. The pillows are gold colored and upon closer inspection I discover the material is satin. A graceful, curving lamp is on one side of the bed and a modest sized wooden dresser, freshly polished, sat on the other. Against the wall is a full length mirror and besides that is a mystery door.

My curiosity peaks and I walk over, opening the interesting door. Its just a bathroom, but wow… I thought Marilyn's family had a great bathroom with warm water and working pipes but damn. Without thinking much into it, I strip down, carefully tossing my belongings down on the sink's counter and enter the shower, pressing a random button. This can't hurt to indulge in before I die. Within minutes I have the mirrors in the mystery bathroom fogged up, heat radiating my body as I am enclosed in a stream of hot water.

With a soft towel around my waist and shoulders, I open the dresser, inspecting the clothes laid out inside. I'll admit, they were nice looking but instead I choose to hop back into my relatively clean Reaping clothes which were just washed recently. Not like I put them on often anyway. Making an exception, I grabbed some socks and underwear from the dresser but otherwise wore my Reaping pants and white button up shirt, a few of the top buttons casually undone. I decided to leave the vest on the bed as I left the room, my hair slicked back with wetness.

I enter the dining room again and sit at the table, drumming my fingers against the wooden surface. I think its mahogany. I'll admit, if the Capitol has gotten anything right, it's those amazing showers and weird soaps. Thanks to them I smelled like a nice combo of fresh pine and cool mint, two of my favorite scents.

"Logan, be careful with the furniture, its all mahogany," Britannia chides me, clearly worried my weight would break the wooden chair or something. I fight off a groan. I know how to sit in a chair and I know how to handle wood, a talent gained from living in District 7. In fact, the chairs and table were probably chopped down and then made in my district.

I'm soon joined at the table by Britannia and Elissa, all of us waiting for Clarissa to return. I can't help but notice the predatory way both women are looking at me, causing my nerves to act up a bit. "Is something wrong?" I ask cautiously.

In response Britannia gives me a toothy grin, her colorful nails laced under her chin in a scheming manner. Elissa on the other hand, gives me a sideways smirk, clearly knowing something I don't. Both of them are starting to freak me out a bit. Seeing my discomfort, Elissa's smirk transforms into a full blown grin.

"You're different Logan. Promising," she muses, her eyes sharp. "How tall are you?" she questions, her tone smooth but excited.

"Um, last time I checked I am 6'10," I answer hesitantly. Elissa's expression at that moment matched the one of her winning her games: triumphant, victorious, powerful, and overall relieved.

Luckily for me Clarissa finally makes an appearance, her hair damp and smelling of strawberries. It seems she had taken advantage of the showers like I did. "Did I miss anything?" she asks anxiously, carefully sitting down. I shake my head no. With all of us finally present again the white clad servants appear, laying down a feast of rich and colorful food.

Oh my god, the food. It is just like the showers- rich and amazing. Britannia's smile disappears as she watches me gorge myself on any food within reach. I'm not exactly picky so just about everything is game. It takes a lot to power a body like mine though, so I know it won't hurt to put a few pounds on for the games. Think of it as emergency rations for when I start to starve.

"What's this?" Clarissa asks politely after some time of eating. I glance over to what she's pointing at and I see a mud brown mound. "That's chocolate cake," Britannia tells us, cutting each of us a slice. I examine it skeptically, it really looks like mud. Finally just taking a bite I almost moan out loud at the taste, it was practically orgasmic. Whatever this chocolate cake thing is, it's delicious and flooding my senses.

My hunger re-sparked by the good food, I greedily devour the rest of my slice in three bites. One slice clearly isn't enough for me because without much thought, I use my hand and rip a piece off of the cake, stuffing it in my mouth happily. I am just now noticing the looks the three girls are sending me; stunned, disgusted, and amused. I just stare back, my eyes as wide as a cornered deer's. I quickly swallow what I had in my mouth and choke out a "Sorry". Sipping some water to wash it down, I rush to add that that wasn't very gentlemanly of me.

Lunch soon ended after that and me and Clarissa wobble over to the TV room, our stomachs bulging for different reasons. I collapse gracefully on the couch, causing it to creak loudly. Britannia glares at me and mutters about how expensive that couch is but I ignore it.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Clarissa shyly smiling at me, tapping the corner of her mouth. It takes me a few seconds to get the cue but when I do I hastily wipe the chocolate off of my lips. In front of us, Elissa clears her throat, garnering our attention. She still looks amused at my barehanded destruction of the cake.

"Okay guys, we're going to watch the Reapings and discuss what you think about the other tributes," she told us. "Don't be afraid to tell me your thoughts," she added, turning to the screen and clicking a button in her hand. The TV flashed to life and I sat back, my attention turning on the screen. These are the people who are either going to kill me or I am going to kill. It's a sobering thought and Elissa sits down besides Clarissa. The tributes who catch my eye are:

A quiet, long haired boy from the 15 year olds section and a glitzy blonde model of a girl volunteering from the 18 year old section in District 1. District 2 contains a small but cold and intimidating girl from the 17 year old section and a loud and obnoxious boy with obvious bloodlust from the 18 year old section, both who volunteer. District 4 has a tall but rail thin 18 year old with paper white skin. District 5 surprises me because a light brown haired boy volunteers much to the shock of his District, a wild light in his eyes as he grinned at the cameras. Soon District 7 appears and I can't believe how crazy our Reaping was. There is Clarissa's boyfriend begging the crowd not to take her until finally he is taken away by force, then Clarissa's tearful entry to the stage and my own shocked but stoic look, my size amplified next to the dainty Clarissa and the mayor. District 9 has a dark emanating boy who seems to have already given up on life, his eyes dead as he walks out from the 16 year olds. District 11 gets a quiet but proud boy whose skin to my surprise isn't as dark as the past tributes, his walk swaggering out of the 17 year olds. Lastly we have District 12 who yields a small girl with curly hair the color of fire from the 15 year olds and a loud, bratty 12 year old who seems to make it his mission pissing everyone off.

We continue to watch, listening to the commentary by host Apollo Guildenwood and newcomer Caesar Flickerman. "So Caesar, what do you think of the District 5 boy? Very unusual if you ask me," Apollo chuckled, his smile as radiant as the sun. He was talking about how the boy volunteered, something unheard of until now for that District.

Caesar grins back, his hair and eyebrows dyed ice blue, making me think of Jack Frost, the name we give for our personification of the season of winter. "If you ask me, I wouldn't want to arm wrestle with that District 7 guy. Did you see the size of him? It wouldn't be hard for a tribute of his size to break a few bones- I certainly wouldn't want to arm wrestle with that!" He says this in a joking manner, sending Apollo into peals of laughter and causing the TV to show a quick glimpse of me at the Reaping, standing tall and well above the other 17 year old boy's heads, my expression blank as I await the results.

Suddenly a wave of nausea hits me and I feel ill. These people are talking about me killing like it's some kind of joke! At that moment I felt way too full. Elissa glances at me worriedly, noticing me getting up. "Excuse me—" I mutter, trying to get past, but the words barely get out of my mouth before a burning sensation sears my throat and I find myself bending over, vomiting all that I had just previously eaten.

Britannia gives a yelp –"Not the carpet! That's Persian!"—while Clarissa looks away, staring awkwardly out at the windows. Elissa shoves a bucket towards me and I gratefully grab it, arms shaking as another bout hits me. I hear Britannia moan something about bronze but at this point I really could care less.

After what felt like hours but was probably only a few minutes, I had stopped vomited and was now weakly dry heaving into the bucket. My throat felt like I had swallowed hot coals and I finally back away from the bucket, a moan escaping my lips. Two of the white clad servants start cleaning up my mess while a third takes the bucket of sick away. I slowly push myself up into a sitting position, shuddering at the taste in my mouth. Seeing something come at me from the side, I reflexively jerk away, the action almost triggering another bout of stomach acids as a headache threatens to pound my skull.

"Relax, it's just water. It won't kill you- as long as you're careful in the Games," Elissa warns, holding out a crystal glass of the liquid. I gratefully take it, washing the bitter taste out of my mouth and using a towel a servant hands me to clean myself up. "Off to bed both of you. We'll talk later around dinner time. We get to the Capitol late tonight," Elissa announces firmly, her arms crossed over her chest.

I just nod tiredly, staggering to my room. I gently set myself down on the soft bed, closing my grass green eyes for what seemed like only a moment before my mind was already drifting off to sleep, my dreams fitful with 12 year olds and breaking bones, wild eyes watching me with glee as invisible people shrieked in delight.

A few hours later, I woke naturally to bright sun rays shining down on my face, the light dragging me out of unconsciousness. I wasn't exactly feeling hungry but remembering Elissa's early dinner time meet up I got up. I quickly notice in disgust that I had napped in my vomit covered clothes, so I hurriedly change out of them, going to the dresser and grabbing a tight grey shirt and brown pants the same color as my vest. I decide for now that I'll leave the vest here, but when we leave I'll take it with me.

Finally deciding I was clean once again, I left, walking back into the dining room and sitting down. Against my better judgment I made myself a small plate of food containing a piece of buttered bread and a red apple. Elissa and Clarissa arrive next from the TV room, appearing to have spent some time together while there. Clarissa's eyes are rimmed red so maybe she just talked about her life at home.

"Our train is on time so be ready to be at the Capitol in a few hours," Elissa tells us. "When you get there you will get a team of stylists who will dress you for the opening ceremony and interviews. No matter what they do, what pain you have to go through, let them do it."

Clarissa and I respectfully nod then spent the rest of our time going from dining room, to our room, to the TV room. I find myself watching the Reapings a lot, looking over the tributes again. It looks to be a tough year. I notice the train's lights flickered out for a moment, causing the train to be pitch black. Strange, not even the natural light is here.

"Don't worry guys, its just a tunnel. We're a few minutes from the Capitol now," Elissa tells us, walking over to a window. Our train shoots out of the tunnel and light once again floods the interior. Elissa smirks, her hands held behind her back, "Welcome to the Capitol."

Pristine, colorful, shiny. Those are the first words that cross my mind as I describe the Capitol. Everything is bright and metallic, the sun glinting off of every imaginable surface and some unimaginable ones. Nothing seems dirty or out of place here, everything set up in a perfect manner. I can practically smell the riches coming off of this place. Just a little of this stuff could make life in District 7 much, much easier.

As our train delves deeper into the Capitol, the people start to point and wave, recognizing a tribute train. I'm left dumbstruck at the excited energy these people give off, I mean I knew the Capitol loved their tributes but this seemed ridiculous.

Elissa gives a bittersweet smile, "Wave or smile back. If you interact with these people it sends a positive message to them that is bound to get you sponsors." Clarissa is hesitant at the new info, staying in place at the table but I approach the window, gazing out at it. Our train soon slows and stops, reaching the station. Having finally stopped I am given a good look at these people. I'm left stunned with their wild and outrageous looks and flamboyant styles in which everything seems to be blown out of proportion.

Cameras click at me and people wildly wave but I make no move, only emotionlessly staring back. This doesn't deter them however and the crowd seems to get wilder, until even I back away to sit at the quiet table.

* * *

I stand naked in a private room, everything stripped off of my body which is bare to three of the strangest people I have ever seen in my entire life. They circle me like vultures and its one of the most uncomfortable moments in my entire life. The only male, Nero, who has jet black curls and what seems like hundreds of piercings on his body, starts taking my measurements for the clothes they will make me.

The short one Aurora, has a Mohawk of brightly vibrant neon green and pink, her lipstick the same colors. Her skin is pure white like the boy from District 4, but unlike his her's doesn't seem as natural. She was currently preparing strips of cloth and brewing an awful smelling pot, the liquids the color of beeswax.

The third, Camilla, was wielding scissors and soaps and nail filers. She looked the most normal, her natural beauty revealing exotic looks that if she wasn't a Capitol citizen, I would find her rather attractive. She has darkened skin but it's more golden than the dark colors seen in District 11. Green eyes highlighted in metallic gold makeup, she has black symbols of tattoos scattered and swirling all over her body, the most noticeable sitting right under her right eye.

Nero raises a brow at me and grins, showing off altered sharp teeth. "You're the biggest tribute we've ever had for this District so far. Sit," he orders. Without saying a word, I hesitantly sit down at the table, Elissa's words flashing in my mind. Aurora suddenly pushes me down on my back, slapping one of the warm clothes down on my chest and with the same speed as before, she rips it off.

I yell in surprised pain, hissing it out. I did not expect that to hurt but damn, that really hurt. I look down to see chest hair gone, replaced by a reddening mark. Nero gives another predatory grin. That sadistic bastard was enjoying this. "Don't worry, we just have to do this all over your body," he laughs. My eyes flash in fear but the colorful Capitolites are already slapping more of the warm clothes on my body. My first yelp of pain wasn't my last.

When that was finally over, Camilla started rubbing me down with this gritty soap that hurt at first but then soothed my red dotted skin. It looked like fire ants had attacked me. She let out a musical laugh. "You owe us a lot of money in the swear jar!" she says, causing the other two to go into hysterics. The joke is lost on me. Next they wash me off in warm water, ridding my body of the dirty soap then they clip my hair, keeping my short uneven locks presentable. Then they are blowing hot air at me, warming and drying me off.

Once my body hair is either groomed or exterminated and the red dots over my body have faded, the three stylists seem much more relaxed. Camilla is fixing up the rest of my hair while Nero worked on my toenails and Aurora settled on my fingernails. When they finally stop and allow me to look at myself in the mirror I'm slightly surprised. I'm still relatively the same but just much more shiny; I'm glowing with cleanliness and health, something hard to find in District 7.

"Looks like you're done!" Aurora cheers, examining my nails that under her care now shined in perfect little squares, no longer chipped and dirty. Nero smirks again, looking my naked body up and down, "You were so filthy, I'm shocked we got you to look this good." I ignore the backhanded comment and simply nod.

Camilla sniffles, wiping at her eyes dramatically. "He's gorgeous! We did great. Let's give him to Janus before I ruin my makeup." Aurora laughs at that while Nero sneers, "Janus has nothing to work with. We did all the work." Aurora rolls her eyes at her partners rude behavior and the trio waltz out, commenting on what they thought the other stylists will do with the tributes. Then I'm left alone, wondering who this Janus is.

I run a hand over my head, the familiar strands cut down evenly. I felt like a tree stripped of bark, my protection is gone and now I'm vulnerable to the elements. The door opens and I look up to see a young man enter.

His dark brown hair is shaved down at the sides, leaving the hair in the middle which was dyed yellow blond and styled in a pompadour. He has freckles splayed across his cheeks and a large circular earing in his left earlobe. The most striking feature about him though is his eyes; the left one is blue while the right is brown. If you looked at different angles of him, I could imagine him looking like two completely different people. I wonder if his eyes are natural- both of them.

The man that must be Janus circles me like a shark, one looking for blood in the water. I wearily follow his gaze, once again feeling embarrassed about my nakedness. Finally he stops and smiles, one that showed no teeth but reached his eyes in a comforting way. "My name is Janus, and you must be Logan?" he questions. I nod my head and he once again smiles a toothless smile.

He hands me a light green robe that I use to cover myself, happy to finally cover my body after all that time. He beckons me over to a side room where he gestures for me to sit down in a chair next to his. I eye the bowl of fruit and Janus nods, allowing me to take some grapes. "I think with you we don't have to do much," he simply tells me, staring out at the large windows which allowed an amazing view of the Capitol.

* * *

Hours later I find myself at the Remake Center, where the chariots and horses are kept for the Opening Ceremonies. I find myself in a rather boring costume- better safe than sorry though. Janus has me in some "traditional" lumberjack clothes. I'm wearing a tight, sleeveless red and black plaid flannel shirt, a few of the top buttons undone with attractively ripped and frayed denim jeans with shiny black leather knee high boots finishing it off. I look more like a stereotypical hunter though in my opinion. Janus had insisted on making a show of my physique, clearly going for the intimidating factor. I'm not much of a tough guy but I find myself liking the look, even though I can't pull off the angle.

Clarissa is in a much homelier outfit, an autumn leaf pattered dress strait out of the pioneer days. I find our outfits to be surprisingly complementary if not somewhat sexist. Then again, Clarissa is pregnant and can't exactly wear the usual showy outfits…

We get on our chariots, and our horses which I recognize as Clydesdales, start obediently pulling us along, having been given the signal to go. "Smile and wave!" Clarissa's stylist advises us quickly before she disappears, the horses having pulled us into a small tunnel. Then, the tunnel opens up and we are engulfed in a wave of sound.

I'm stunned by the crowd who are soon screaming our District's name upon spotting our chariot come out. Clarissa lightly nudges my foot, reminding me to smile. I hesitantly wave to the crowd and force a smile on my face. The crowd is going wild, cheering, screaming, crying for my attention- no our attention. Hell, maybe it's the next chariot's attention. I don't spot myself up on the massive TV screens but I get a good look at the Careers.

The District 1 tributes, with their golden chariot and snow white horses are getting a lot of attention as usual as the first tributes out. The girl is sending seductive smirks, kisses, and winks at the crowd who are going crazy for her attention. Her District partner on the other hand is much more low-key, not seeking the attention like her. I notice they're the same height and for some reason that strikes me as funny, cause I let out a sudden laugh, startling Clarissa and the District 6 tributes ahead of us. Why that's so funny I really have no idea, maybe I just see height differently.

The District 2 boy is whooping it up, waving his arms and getting the crowd in a frenzy to cheer alongside him or with him, or maybe even for him. He's clearly annoying his quiet partner who looks like she wants nothing more than to deck him in the face. They have sleek grey clothes that match their horses, the material complements their forms and seems to shine or reflect light.

The District 4 tributes are dressed as mermaids, the boy wearing tight green pants and a net slung over his shoulder like a toga while the girl wore a skintight ankle length skirt and shell bra, her hair tousled and looking as if she had just spent some time in the ocean. The ghostly boy is tall and proud, sending seductive and arrogant smirks at the crowd. His white skin seems to glow in the light and I can hear Capitol women screaming his name. Already he's assembled himself some sex god.

All of our chariots stop in a half moon shape, positioned around the balcony where the president makes his speeches and announcements. We listen to the speech and then the anthem plays. The chariots set off and bring us to the Training Center. I'm happy to be here, being in front of that crazed crowd was something I found rather unenjoyably. Clarissa and I bypass the other tributes and chariots, heading straight for the elevators.

We enter and find ourselves sharing it with the District 12 tributes and District 4 boy, the arrogant sex god himself. "Man, you're pale. Do you ever go out?" the 12 year old troublemaker from 12 asks the Career tactlessly. His partner, the flame haired one, makes a startled sound, her eyes wide at his boldness.

There is an awkward pause until the Career sharply speaks up. "I'm fucking albino, of course I'm pale," he snarls, his voice deeper than I would have given him credit for.

"Whoa we got a badass over here," the younger boy taunted, putting his hands up in a calm-down motion. The albino huffed, pinching the bridge of his sharp nose. "Kid, let's just see you make it out of the Bloodbath," he said, before the elevator stopped and he disappeared on his floor. "That's right, walk away then. Too scared?" the kid crowed. He fixed his dark, coal like eyes on me next.

"What are you looking at?" he asked annoyed, noticing me staring. "How's the weather up there?" he taunts. It looked like he would have said something to Clarissa too but his partner clamps her hand over his mouth, hissing, "Ringo, shut up!" I give her a small, sympathetic smile and then me and Clarissa get off at our floor.

We walk in to find Elissa Banks and Britannia Meyer already there and waiting for us. "I've setup some sponsors already!" Elissa grins, practically salivating at the thought. It's clear that she wants us to win- badly. I flash her a thumbs up then walk to my room labeled D7M, tiredly collapsing like a fallen tree on the bed. This one doesn't creak.

The room is very much like the one on the train, only bigger and high tech. One whole wall was made of one way glass, allowing me to see out into the bright Capitol city. It had blinds if it got too bright though. The furniture was fancier, also filled with clothes addressed to my size. The bed is plush, facing a large flat screen TV that was up against the wall. On the bed is my Reaping vest though I have no idea what to wear it for anymore. There's a little device on the wall that allows me to instantly change the temperature of the room to my liking along with a high powered fan on the ceiling. There's a bathroom connecting to my room which is larger and somehow more elegant than the train's, filled with more buttons and options. I also notice there are more of the white clad servants here than compared to the train.

I strip down and crawl into the cool satin sheets, sleep quickly claiming me once again. Tonight is my first night in the Capitol. It won't be long till I leave this place, finding myself in the Hunger Games and fighting to survive in whatever harsh world the Gamemakers create for me.


	3. Black

Hello everyone :) Good to see some people have glanced at this story but I kinda wish more people took an interest to it. This chapter focuses more on the other characters this story has to offer. I'll admit, they're a little silly but they're my little silly characters :) I would have uploaded this a little earlier but I went to North Carolina for a week. Now I'm going to Houston Texas soon. I have chapter 4 already typed up but I need to proofread it like I have the others, then after that I'll be exceptionally slow cause I have to write everything up. _Anyway- _

I don't own the Hunger Games or else Cato would have been the winner and I don't own Black by Kari Kimmel which is a pretty kickass song. But, I _do_ own my characters :)

* * *

Black by Kari Kimmel 

**-Logan: District 7 Tribute **

I'm woken from my unconsciousness by sunlight and I give a lazy smile, my eyes still closed. I roll over, my arms outstretched but to my surprise I find no body to hug, no trace of Marilyn in sight. That's when I open my eyes and remember that just yesterday I had been Reaped for the Hunger Games, where I have a 1 in 24 chance of ever coming out alive again. I groan but reluctantly drag my naked self to the bathroom, a nice hot shower awaiting me. Just like I expected, the buttons are a lot more numerous and complicated than the train's. After minutes of trial and error I get it working, finding the same pine-mint mixture I had adored on the train.

Once I'm dried off I get on some stretchy pants and a simple grey shirt along with some good looking leather shoes that I can't help but envy. They would be really nice in Distirct 7, but I can tell it's a luxury no one there could afford. Deeming myself ready I head out, sitting down at the table and picking out food from the breakfast buffet.

Elissa Banks, Britannia Meyer, Clarissa Merope, Janus, and Clarissa's stylist soon join me. "Okay, do you guys wanna be trained separately or together?" Elissa questions us, glancing back and forth. "Seperately," Clarissa informs, much to me and Elissa's surprise. Elissa quickly smooth's out her expression and nods, beckoning Clarissa to follow her into a more secluded spot for their talk. Clarissa gets up with the help of Janus and Britannia then the two disappear down some passageway on our floor.

"How did I look?" I ask my stylist as I took a bite of egg, wondering what they thought of our chariot ride. Janus gives a lazy shrug, "It was okay. Nothing special." I give the curtest of nods and finish up my food. Elissa did say she got sponsors, but of course she could just be saying that and trying to boost our morale…

Clarissa comes out soon and informs me Elissa is waiting for me. I get up, cracking my back in the process, and lumber over, the food having filled me up comfortably. As soon as I enter Elissa starts assaulting me with questions.

"Okay, tell me what you can do," she spits out, her expression serious.

Pausing, I think for a moment before answering. "I can handle axes well, I can read the sun and recognize a few plants. Um… I work out a lot so I'm strong and I have good stamina," I tell her. Elissa gives a nod, a thoughtful expression on her face. "Not bad, but what if there is no axes in the area? Hmmm, what will you do then?" she questions, looking almost smug.

I frown. For some bizarre reason that thought did not cross my mind. "Uh, use my fists?"

Elissa smirks and makes a harsh buzzing sound, "Wrong answer. I want you to practice on snares, other weapons, and learn to identify as many plants as possible. Some camoflauge wouldn't hurt either, your height makes you stick out like a sore thumb. Learn how to make fire too, it's important to cook food and purify water."

I nod, my mind sifting through it all so I can remember it. Elissa gives me a smile, "Now go with Britannia, she'll take you and Clarissa up to the Training Center. Don't get into any fights, don't antagonize anyone, and tell me about your day when you get back. And I mean tell me _everything_- stations you visited, weapons you used, tributes you interacted with. Now scat."

I send her a grin and get up, hurrying after Britannia and Clarissa who are already stepping into the elevator which had at some point gone down to our floor. "Be on time every day at 10 AM sharp. Elissa also told me to tell you two not to show off any special skills you may possess. Make yourself a surprise when you get to the Gamemakers and the Hunger Games! Now good luck!" Britannia squeals good-naturedly at us.

It's a little bit before 10 but we still find ourselves the last tributes to arrive. The room is a giant gym, filled with all sorts of equipment and survival stations, dummies and trainers within easy reach.

Seeing the rest of the tributes staring over at us I quickly jog over, finding myself standing by the stocky brown haired District 11 guy. Clarissa joins shortly after, having paused at the entrance for some reason. I start listening to the head instructor, Atlas, as he gives off the list of rules in the Training Center.

**-Peri, District 4 Tribute**

I can't help but roll my eyes at the District 7 tributes. While the knocked up one had waited patiently to get her district number pinned to her outfit the idiotic hulk of a human being bypassed it, probably not even noticing it. I can't help but smirk as a trainer notices the mishap and quickly slaps a 7 on his back, the tribute finally noticing and sheepishly apologizing.

This is the guy I have to watch out for? Christ. While the adult in charge, Atlas, tells us what to do I use this useless time to examine my competition.

I can't help but give out a soft sigh as I realize that its probably better to remember these guys names instead of referring them as _that_ guy or _that_ girl from _that_ district. Most of the tributes are paying attention to the speech but I catch a few like myself checking out the other tributes. That crazy one, the District 5 boy who volunteered, catches my eye and sends me a large grin.

I can't suppress the shudder that runs through my body. That guy seriously freaks me out.

Now I may be a career but most of the guys here and a few of the girls have a lot more muscle mass on them than I do. Then again my brother calls me the human stick. Both District 2 could probably chop me in half, along with Mr Smiley from 5, Lumber Giant, and the quiet white kid from 11. They're all strong, something I am not without a weapon or even my wits.

Atlas dismisses us and I quickly find my way over to the tributes from Districts 1, 2, and my fellow partner from 4. Another tribute lingers though. "Hey, beat it," the tan District 2 male snarls at the loner. The mystery tribute is none other than Smiley, the creepy District 5 boy. Scarily enough, he seems to brighten at the career's threat. "Can I join you guys?" he asks hopefully, beaming.

This throws meat-head off, his wolfy amber eyes both cautious and pretentious. He glances back at the rest of us for confirmation but gets none. Shrugging, he turns to the boy, "Prove yourself in the arena and we'll think about it."

The boy beams and nods, walking off jovially to the nearest station. "Ugh, he totally creeps me out," the stunningly attractive bombshell from 1 voices, looking as unnerved as I feel. Her district partner shrugs, putting his hair up in a ponytail. God, his hair is longer than hers; is that some sort of District 1 fashion statement?

"Let's go find a station then we can introduce ourselves," he decides. It's a fair enough decision and we all agree, heading over to the weapons station. Thanks to the plan, I soon learn that tall, blonde, and bangable is named Nicole and that her young, long haired partner is named Jackson. The loud tanned boy with wolf eyes is Sparrow and his cold partner is Minerva, or Minnie for short. My own quiet partner is named Adele.

"So, what about you?" Sparrow leers, grinning mischievously at me. I can't help but notice his exceptionally sharp canine teeth, though unlike some of the Capitolites, his is natural. I send him a frown, leaning back away from his teeth, "Peri Sorenson, District 4." He gives a low whistle, "Wow, talk about formal. Get that stick out of your ass and lets go."

I send him an irritated look. Usually I'm a pretty happy, laid back guy. I may live in a career district, and even possibly have trained as a career, but it was more of a back-up policy, a plan B if something went wrong. Seeing how I got Reaped, it was the smart thing to do.

Sparrow grabs a large broadsword while Nicole takes a much thinner and lighter weighted sword. Minnie brushes by me, heading for the knives which leaves me, Jackson, and Adele unsure of what to do. Jackson bites his lip but darts after Minnie, muttering about how knife throwing must be similar to knife juggling. Wait, what….?

Before I can dwell on that much further I make a quick decision and follow Adele to the spears station. I grab one, making sure it's perfectly balanced for my taste. As I get familiar with the weapon I glance over at Adele. Its clear that both her and Jackson aren't true careers, though Jackson could've become one if he was given the right amount of time.

Shaking those thoughts away, I bring the spear back, my legs bringing me into a prancing skip. I arch forward and throw the spear like you would a javelin, watching it arch forward and embed itself into a dummy's chest, piercing it's ribcage from a good enough distance.

I end up spending a lengthy amount of time at the spear station, relearning the craft while at the same time sharpening my skills. As I pause to wipe my hair away I decide on checking on my fellow careers. Sparrow is joyfully hacking away at some dummies while Jackson is swinging around a sword and far off Nicole is trying her best at the archery station.

As I watch, I notice that she's terrible with a bow and arrow. The other tribute at the station, the District 11 guy, seems thoroughly amused at her efforts, finally getting tired of her pathetic attempts as he strings up a large wooden bow. He aims, pulling the feathered arrow back, and lets it go, sending the arrow directly into its forehead. Nicole fumes at the boy, clearly angry at the way he handled the weapon with ease, and she shoves the bow at him, stalking off to the snare station and passing the District 7 guy over by the gymnastics station who was currently doing chin ups.

I'm jolted back to my senses as Minnie places a tiny hand over my snow colored arm. "We're checking out the axes. Sparrow wants to try to get District 7 tribute to join us. He thinks it's better to have that guy as a friend instead of an enemy."

I can't help but agree and I put my spear back, following Minnie over to the other careers who have gathered around the gymnastics station. Watching him I note that this kid is absolutely massive. At 6'05 I'm considered pretty tall but this kid towers over even me. He also has about twice as much muscle as Sparrow who would be the heftiest guy here.

Sparrow whispers something to Nicole and she reluctantly agrees, walking over to the boy with a sudden swagger in her step. She bats her eyes at him and smiles, saying in a low seductive voice, "Wow, you sure are strong."

Her flirting catches his attention and he glances down at us, muscles taut as his chin was kept above the bar. "Your name is Morgan, right?" Nicole asks sweetly. "Logan," he grunts out, lowering himself for another chin up.

Nicole smiles, her cobalt blue eyes half lidded. "Okay, _Logan_," she purrs out, tracing a well-manicured finger along his chest and down to his waist. He freezes, muscles rigid. Nicole gave off a high pitched giggle, "We all just wanna chat." Logan warily lets go, just now noticing the rest of us, and he drops down to our level. Even then, we still have to tip our heads up to meet him while he has to crane his neck down.

"Logan, certainly a man of your stance is one not to mess with. How would you like to join the careers?" Nicole asks, practically purring out his name. Logan seems surprised at the offer, his green eyes widening slightly. Or maybe it was just her tone of voice affecting him.

"Hey man, you don't have to decide now. We're also wondering if you could show us some tips on axes," Sparrow cuts in, lessoning the tension and pointing a finger over at the station. Logan seems to soften up at the offer, looking over to the station wistfully. "I haven't been to the axes yet….," he glanced back at the chin up bar but gave a reluctant nod. "Fine, I'll go with you guys."

It's just baby steps but it sure is something. With our new pal in tow, we head over to the axe station, letting him lead the way. Nicole and Sparrow are grinning like idiots over some plan of theirs while Jackson and Adele seem skittish about this. Minnie on the other hand just looks bored.

Logan grabs one of the huge axes with ease, examining the weapon which was longer than most of us, besides me and Sparrow. "I haven't used one as a weapon, but I have used it against trees," Logan told us, gently sliding his thumb across the blade. His thumb comes away bright red and he grins, satisfied.

Logan nods to us, "Plant your feet firmly on the ground, swing your body, and have the momentum connect with the tree. The real endurance and strength is having to swing it repeatedly in the same place. Beginners will get tired easily so don't get frustrated when you start huffing."

His earlier light grip turns firm and he turns to a block of wood, setting one out that is about as wide as my calves. He hefts the axe over his head, then with one fluid motion brings it down, slamming the blade into the middle of the wood. The lumber cracks easily and is send flying, almost hitting Adele who quickly jerks out of the way. "There," he said, kicking the other split piece of wood which didn't fly as far. Checking the axe he added, "You want to be careful that you don't dull the blade.

Seeing how easy he split some wood that was about the same thickness as my leg, I'm a lot more cautious of his abilities which seem to be strength and axes.

For a short amount of time our little group humors Logan as we try to handle the axes. It's clear that none of us can use them properly as we either don't have the strength to swing it with enough force or that we don't have the endurance to keep going. It takes Sparrow multiple whacks to cut down some wood the same size as Logan's demonstration piece, showing just how difficult it is. Luckily before we can humiliate ourselves further, Atlas declares it's a lunch break.

We all sit together, grabbing some chow which looked very delicious and protein filled. The rest of the tributes either sit it out alone or make small groups which usually consist of their district partner. Logan doesn't join us but we're still intimidating as the largest alliance out there. Sparrow playfully yanks on Jackson's strawberry blond hair, eliciting a hiss from the young man.

"Okay crew, assess the tributes," he commands, clearly the one in charge. Despite his rash demeanor, I'm finding him to be a good leader, one with the loyalties to stick with his friends no matter what- or at least till most of the tributes are gone.

Nicole huffs angrily, crossing her arms over her rather bountiful chest. She's glaring daggers over at the District 11 boy who had shown her up at the archer and was currently sitting with the District 6 tributes. "Him. Reece Griffiths. He's handy with a bow. Too handy," she growls out. "Logan's an obvious threat, along with all of us," Jackson adds. Minnie nods in agreement, "You can't trust anyone."

"I don't like that District 5 boy. He volunteered for godsake, that's just unnatural," I finally speak up, voicing my fears. Nicole quickly nods in strong agreement, hurriedly glancing around for said boy. Minnie gets some paper and a pencil from one of the trainers and starts jotting things down.

"What'cha doing?" Adele asks, just as befuddled as the rest of us. "It's the names and districts of the tributes so we can have an edge over them," Minnie informs, writing all of our names out. "Full names please," she orders, only having her own, mine, and Reece's names spelled out. Sparrow scowls, his wolf eyes narrowed on his district partner, "Why do we need last names? It's not gonna make a difference." Minnie sends a rare smirk at him, "Because I like hearing your ridiculous name." Sparrow growled out a warning for her but she had already piqued the rest of our interests.

Jackson frowned, leaning in slightly, "What's so bad about your last name," then he quickly added to Minnie, "Smith." Nicole nodded in agreement, smiling at the silliness of it, "Yeah! What's up? Forbes." Adele gave her last name obediently which was Orson.

Nicole tipped Sparrow's chin up mischeviously, a smirk on her face. "Tell us your name! It can't be that bad, I mean my dad worked with a guy named Dick Balser," she said seriously. That name sends me and Jackson into immature hysterics, both of us biting our lips to keep from laughing. Jackson loses the fight and erupts into laughter, myself joining a second later.

Nicole sends us an annoyed look as Adele smiles, and even Minnie has lost most of her iciness as she rolls her eyes at us. Surprisingly, Sparrow's expression remains unbroken, wearing the ultimate poker-face.

"The Gamemakers are eventually going to call you out on the third day anyway so it's no use hiding it from the rest of us," she says frustratedly. Sparrow scowls and mutters something out none of us are able to hear though Minnie does have a small smirk on her face. Jackson gives a bold smile, "I'm sorry but I didn't catch that. Did you hear that, Adele?" Adele giggles and shakes her head no, playing along.

This is apparently all the stupidity Sparrow can take because he snarls out, "Byrd! My last name is Byrd." Sparrow Byrd…? Jackson slaps a hand over his mouth, navy blue eyes shining with unspoken laughter. I can't help but laugh too though unlike Jackson, I don't bother to hide it. "Sparrow Byrd," I tease, testing it on my tongue, "interesting family you have."

Sparrow bares his teeth, daring us to laugh again. There is a laugh but its from none of us. We all simultaneously turn around to see the District 5 boy doubled over with laughter. Now every tribute is staring, many of them looking rather intimidated. The boy's laughter sounds like one of those animals I read about in a school book before I dropped out. Hyenas.

Sparrow snarls and abruptly stands up. "What's so funny?" he growls, amber eyes flashing in anger. His knuckles are white, a stark contrast to his suntanned skin. The District 5 boy sends him a cheeky grin, "Your name, its ridiculous!" He bursts out into laughter and by now every tribute is watching the tense standoff between him and Sparrow. I tension is so thick, it practically feels like the rough sandpaper surface of a shark, brushing up against your leg. Unfortunately, a few of the tribute's fears of Sparrow and us seem to be melting, a few of them looking amused and interested in the conflict.

Sparrow evidently sensed it too for he stalked over to the tanned boy from 5. "Listen here—" he snarled, getting cut off by the boy who calmly replied, "Augustan." He shows no fear of us careers and Sparrow is stunned by it, looking at him blankly. "What?"

"My name is Augustan, not District 5 boy," he responded slowly, making sure his words are loud enough to hear and succeeding in making Sparrow look stupid.

Sparrow scowled, looking like he would like nothing more than to choke the life out of this kid. After a moment's hesitation, he leaves, ignoring the table completely and heading back to the training room. His food is only halfway finished and his departure leaves the rest of us in a surprised silence. Finally, someone breaks the tension. It's the annoying little brat from 12, Rudy or something.

"Well? What's his name?" he asks Augustan excitedly. Reese sends him a double take. "Wow, you've got some balls," he commented, looking flabbergasted. Augustan just smirked, clearly enjoying the attention he was suddenly getting, "His name is Sparrow Byrd."

The 12 year old bursts out laughing and is soon joined by Augustan. The child's laughter is cut off though as his district partner sharply smacks him in the back of the head. "Are you trying to get yourself killed!?" she hisses, practically shrieking. Augustan sends her a weird look, his head cocked to the side slightly in apparent confusion.

"Let's get back to Sparrow, we've all finished our meals," Jackson mutters. I glance around and see that most of the tributes have already eaten their meals. We get up and head back over to where Sparrow should be.

**-Victoria, District 12 Tribute **

I grab Ringo's ear, pinching it tightly as I dragged him along with the other tributes. Hissing, I ask him why he's so desperate for a death wish. Ringo scowls at me, slapping my hand away. "You're not my mom! Why do you care anyway!? I'm just having some fun before I die," he huffs, crossing his arms rebelliously.

I glare at him, my anger rising. "Remember this; when we get in the arena and we both manage to survive the Bloodbath, I'm not covering your ass out there. You're on your own. And if those careers or that district 7 guy or maybe even Augustan, if they get you, you're not coming out. Not alive at least."

Ringo gives me a wide eyed look, stunned at my outburst. His expression then hardens and he shoves past me. Sighing, I follow him and join the surprised crowd of tributes. While we were gone eating, they had blocked off the Training Center from us. I can see the career, Sparrow, pacing around annoyed like a caged animal, ready to strike out at anything that approached him. He must have been doing that the whole time, his pride not allowing him to come back to us.

When they reopen the doors to all of us a few minutes later, we're all stunned at the new addition. In one of the corners of the room over by the survival stations is a massive swimming pool. I can see a large panel of buttons right by it, controlling temperature and other things.

"Olympic sized," I hear the albino career mutter, his tone of voice sounding impressed with it. A moment later he was walking towards it but with each step his speed was increasing until he was sprinting towards it full speed which was rather fast. He tears his shirt off and tosses it over his shoulder, his feet carrying him the next few feet to the edge. His feet propel him off the edge and his body curves into a graceful dive, his arms outstretched before them before they come together, his feet strait and connected as he hit the water with a splash.

The rest of us hurry over impressed, wanting to see the tribute swim. We watch as he swims over to the other side, bubbles leaving a trail of his path bursting to the surface as he let out air. District 4 all know how to swim like fish with occurrences of tributes from other districts knowing how to swim too. From the bottom of the deep looking pool the boy twisted, looking up at us from his place under the water. He gives us a lazy wave, sitting cross legged on the floor and occasionally letting out great bubbles of air.

Sparrow scowls, annoyed at the interruption. "Someone get that idiot out." He turns his angry glare at Adele, the other District 4 tribute. She huffs, whipping her brown hair back and almost hitting the taller boy in the face. "I wasn't planning on taking a swim today," she sassily responds. The blonde from District 1 picks up the career's forgotten shirt.

"He has to come up for air eventually," she points out. The short girl from 2 frowns, "Let's just start practicing while Peri does his thing. No need to waste time on him, after all, we only get 3 days to practice."

With her words ringing through the air, most of the tributes walk away from the pool and its distracting tribute though I can see Ringo and a few other tributes watching the tribute under the water. I look around to see which stations are empty and I end up going over to the plants station, where I will learn to identify what's edible, what's helpful and herbal, and what can kill you. Thank god I learn quick because I know my cannon will be one of the first to be shot. Learning something will at least make me feel better. Hopefully.

After a few hours on that I move to the fire making station. This one sadly, I find myself struggling. I'm just about to ask the instructor for help when a pair of strong, tan hands enclose my own and direct the tools I am holding to spark the flame I have been desiring for the past minutes.

I spin around, finding myself inches away from Augustan's face. He smiles at me, his hazel eyes squinting slightly. With our closeness I realize with a jolt of surprise that he has nice lips and perfect white teeth. The only obvious imperfection was his nose which was crooked. Otherwise, he was overall a very handsome boy. The next thing I know, he's talking to me.

"You're so stupid!" he laughed. Wait, what?

"E-excuse me!?" I splutter out, taken aback at his sudden cruel words. He grins, his smile radiant enough to rival the sun's. "You're so stupid," he repeats, still grinning.

I can't help but stare back at him, stunned and hurt by this boy's words, a boy I haven't met until today. "You don't know me," I say defensively, sending him my best glare.

Instead of being intimidated, he just laughs again, the sound coming off as feral, wild, and a little bit insane. "I've been watching you. You're stupid and you will die," he promises me, his smile not wavering one bit.

My blood runs cold at his bold statement. Its creepy enough having him admit to watching me but then calling me stupid and being so sure about my death? That's not normal. Plus at the moment I'm alive and breathing.

He cocks his head to the side, leaning in with a look of concern. "You look faint. You should take a break of doing nothing," he advises, once again taking a jab at me. Before I know what I'm doing, I bring my hand across the side of his face. The smack is loud and everyone turns to us, curious to see what is happening. My brain processes what I did and I gasp at my actions, suddenly terrified.

Augustan gingerly touches his face, a red mark fast appearing where I struck him. He lightly winces at the pain and starts walking past me. Right before he leaves, he whispers to me, "You will die. I'm gonna make sure of it." With a dazzling smile that seemed more sinister than ever, he disappears, leaving me alone at last.

I collapse to my knees, shaking. I'm not a killer and I can't fight but I have someone who does appear to be able to kill and wants me dead. Oh god what am I going to do?

**-Diego, District 9 Tribute **

All around me, I can feel emotions. Hate, love, anger, fear, and the rare flash of happiness- it's all here. This place has only been used for the past 12 years and yet it threatens to overwhelm me.

I quickly change my direction and start heading over to the archery station, wanting to get away from this spot as quickly as possible. I am barely there when a feeling of intense regret and loss swamps me, completely filling my senses. This has happened to me before but never so many intense feelings in such a small place. I breathe out through my nose slowly, not willing to let these foreign feelings take control. If I show weakness the others will come and beg to tell me their stories.

Somehow I successfully reach the archery without trouble but then I realize with a curse that I have no knowledge of archery whatsoever. I need to focus on the things I can actually do! "Hey, mate, you alright?" the stocky guy from 11 asks me. I'm surprised by him but I quickly recover.

"I'm fine, don't worry," I stutter out, glancing around for an escape route. He raises his brows, evidently not buying my hurried response. "Okay," he sighs, deciding not to pry. Instead, he changes tactics. "I'm Reece, who are you?"

"Diego Sanchez, from District 9," I answer quietly. He smiles and extends a hand, dropping the bow he had been using to his side. "Griffiths, Reece Griffiths," he informs, taking my hand and shaking it in a strong grip. I can just feel him studying my curly mop of black hair and caramel skin as he flips his own chestnut brown hair to the side. "So, what can ya do, Diego?" he questions, looking highly interested. God, I wish he would leave.

"Uh, I can recognize plants. Harvest grain," I answer simply. He nods, stroking his smooth chin in deep thought. "You're not as annoying as the careers and you're not intimidating either, but I'm sure if pressured you can fight," he muses. He snaps his fingers suddenly, his olive green eyes blazing. "Got it! Let's go give the weapons a visit," he decides, placing a hand on my shoulder and physically steering me towards the careers.

I try my hardest to squirm out of his grip but he has a strong hold on my shoulders and soon we're at the weapons station. I can tell immediately that we're not wanted there. The tall curvy blonde from 1 sends Reece a look that can kill and I can't help but wonder what he did to aggravate her. He just smiles back cheekily, "Don't worry honey, your looks will get you far enough in life but I can't say the same for your wits."

My jaw drops at his audacity. The girl growls and stalks over to the safety of the large District 2 boy.

Reece grins and quickly shoves me ahead to the edge of the weapons station, far enough away from the careers to give them a wide enough girth. "Okay, so you said you work outside a lot, right? And District 9 is grain?" he asks and I nod in confirmation. While Reece is busy searching the weapons, I send a nervous glance over to the careers. Blondie is telling Blockhead an interesting story, a lot of it involving pointing and complicated rude gestures in our direction. My throat goes dry and I try to swallow saliva but it doesn't help.

"Found it!" Reece declares, not noticing the crazy story being told back there. He shoves a scythe triumphantly in my hands. A scythe…! I resist the urge to face palm myself. How could I forget this as a possible weapon? I always use it out in the fields. Well, the ones I used were much smaller but scythes are pretty much the same.

I turn to Reece and send him a grateful smile, "Reece, thank you so much! I didn't even think of this." He gives a laugh, clapping me on the back a little too roughly. "No prob! Funny, but with that huge scythe you kinda remind me of some Grim Reaper." I'm about to say something back to him but a loud voice stops me before I can even start.

"Hey! What the hell is your problem?" the large District 2 guy barks, his amber eyes boring holes into Reece who stands there strong and unaffected. Reece points at himself and feigns surprise, his eyes widening, "Who, me?" Sparrow suddenly lunges and grabs Reece's collar, easily lifting him off the ground and slamming him roughly into the wall. His snarling face is inches from Reece, his sharp teeth bared, "Bullshit!"

Before things can get more serious, a lanky trainer starts running over, screeching for them to break it up. Sparrow lets out a low growl but obeys, roughly shoving Reece against the wall as he dropped him.

"You're too cocky for your own good. Watch it," he threatens as he turns his back on us and starts swaggering back to the rest of the careers. It's ironic to see the guy who probably is the most cocky one here insulting another for their cockiness.

Reece scoffs and rubs his neck, loosening up his collar which was now stretched. "Its not cockiness if I know I'm bloody right! Grow a brain and we can debate later!" he calls after Sparrow. Sparrow turns around and is about to yell something but his friends hold him back.

Reece turns to me, a grin on his face, "Wow, I'm never this much of a prick in 11. Must be the testosterone leaking out of that guy affecting me or something." Okay, this guy is nuts, I really need to get away.

"Uh, yeah, thanks but, uh I need to go and practice. With something- over there," I lie lamely, stuttering the whole time. Luckily Reece buys it and just nods, heading over to the archery station again.

With no one around me, I let out a sigh. Almost immediately though my feelings of isolation are brushed away as tendrils of forgotten emotions start to tug at me, wanting their stories to be heard. I wave a hand, dissipating them. The head instructors are telling everyone to clean up for the day and a moment later a bell rings, signaling that Day 1 of training is over.

As I head over to the elevator I feel drained, both mentally and physically. Today is only the first day of training, I still have two more to go.

**-Logan, District 7 Tribute **

I follow the crowd of tributes over to the elevator, politely stopping to let the others pass. As I wait I glance back over at the chin up bar and the other equipment that I only got a small amount of time to use. Tomorrow I will use them.

I enter the elevator and end up joining the District 9, 11, and 12 tributes which equals to a rather crowded ride up. I fail to suppress a sigh and I start rubbing the back of my neck which was sore from all the forced excursive. Sadly my thoughts to myself are rather limited at the moment.

"Hey, treetops. Sore already?" Ringo sneers, finding some weird pleasure in getting away with dissing the rest of us older kids. This time his partner doesn't bother to protect him like she did earlier. "I'm tired," I say quietly, hating the feel of all the other tributes eyes set on me and Ringo. Ringo lets out a laugh, "Only old people get tired, like my parents."

"I wonder why," I reply dryly, in no mood for his shit. The District 11 tributes snicker and giggle at my reaction. Ringo puffs his tiny chest out, trying to look bigger than he really was. "What's that supposed to mean!?" he demands, but I'm already stepping off of my floor and walking away. The elevator closes with a satisfying ding and I head over to the dinner table, already starting to load up my plate.

Elissa, Britannia, and Clarissa are already sitting down, food laid out on their plates. Elissa starts off the conversation with asking us what we thought of the other tributes. I lean lazily back in my chair; at this point, pleasantries and manners are useless around these three.

"District 12 boy annoys the hell out of me, the District 1 girl and District 4 boy are already whoring themselves out, the District 2 guy is a loud mouthed egomaniac, and the District 5 guy has this creepy laugh," I report, taking a lazy bite of my food. It's probably not a proper report but I don't really care.

Elissa gives a strained sigh, "Clarissa, what about you?" Clarissa dabs at her mouth, thinking, "The District 1 boy and District 2 girl seem to think more into their actions than the others. Then there's the kind and scared kids who stay to themselves."

Elissa hums something out, processing our facts together to get an idea of the tributes. After a few minutes of silence, she speaks up again, "I have a list of the tributes if you want to look them up." I don't know how that's supposed to help us but I nod, my curiosity piqued. Elissa slides us the information and we hold it in-between us, looking at it. I quickly check out the tributes that have interest me.

District 1 has Nicole Forbes, 18 and Jackson Smith, only 14. Rather young for a career. District 2 has Minerva Anderson, 17 and Sparrow Byrd, 18. District 4 has Adele Orson, 17 and Peri Sorenson, 18. District 3 has Augustan Gonzales, 17. District 9 has the spacey boy, Diego Sanchez, 16. District 11 has the brave boy, Reece Griffiths who is 17. Then District 12 has annoying Ringo Hartman, 12 years old, and his fire-haired partner Victoria Lee, 15.

"What do you think?" Elissa asks curiously, wondering about our thoughts. "Interesting bunch, that's for sure," I say, glancing back over the tributes listed physical information. Not counting me, Sparrow is the heaviest one here at 186 and Peri would be the tallest at 6'05. I am the biggest physical threat here.

"So tell me about your day, what did you do?" Elissa asks us, sipping at her champagne bottle. Clarissa timidly fills Elissa in on what she did but I ignore her, my thoughts stuck on the tributes. Soon, Elissa asks me the same thing.

"Nothing much, I ended up exercising most of the time. Halfway through the careers asked me to join them but I declined. Ended up at the axe station with them then went over to the snare station. Learned some traps," I bragged nonchalantly. Instead of the proud expression I expect, Elissa looks horrified.

"You turned down the careers? That just painted a bull's-eye on your back. Mistake number two, going anywhere near the axe station with the careers. Now they have an idea of what you can do. Snares are good though. Work on fire and camouflage tomorrow, practice other weapons besides axes. Throw a knife, learn to handle a sword, learn the pressure points of the human body. Anything but axes." She then waves her hand, dismissing us.

I finish up the rest of my meal and head back for my room, going in the shower where I freshen up and cool down. I have a full stomach and a warm bed awaiting me. At the moment, I am content.

* * *

Day two of training passes by without much fuss. I ended up hanging out with Reece, Diego, and Victoria numerous times so now we're acquaintances. I learned how to spark a fire with different materials and I handled some new weapons and I can now adequately wield a knife and sword but nowhere near the grace with which the careers handle them. Speaking of careers, they have been surprisingly quiet.

Like my daily excersize routine, Peri does his laps in the pool and other stretches involving the water. Sparrow has been zoning himself out to everyone, only keeping his attention on the weapons. At one point there was some commotion when Peri invited him in for a swim but he vehemently refused. Instead, Adele ended up joining Peri and they had raced with Peri winning by a long shot every time.

I also noticed that Augustan has been sending Victoria these looks, where a smile is always on his face but his hazel eyes are dark with hidden emotion. I haven't seen him practice with weapons much and when I did he always seemed to half-ass it, never giving his all. He's an unpredictable wild card and Panem knows what he will do in the arena when given the chance.

Today marks the third day of training and everyone is on edge, running around to get some much needed practice squeezed in. Some, like Augustan and Reece, are calm, plans clearly in mind.

"Jackson Smith!" the speakers suddenly announce. All of us watch him walk off to a separate room, never to return as Nicole's name is called a bit later.

I try to ease my mind off of it, remembering the plants I went over as I rhythmically swing an axe around several dummies. It helps settle my frayed nerves and the time quickly seems to fly by.

"Bellona Wells!" the speakers call out, and the 12 year old girl from District 6 nervously heads up. She's right before me so I know I'm next. I set the axe aside and sit down at the line of chairs, half of which are now empty. I can feel my nerves acting up again as my heart starts to race, adrenaline pumping through my system and I start breathing in and out.

"Well, good luck," Reece says suddenly, sitting in the empty chair besides me. I give him a half smile, "You too." Reece nods and fidgets with his shoelaces before finally getting up, resuming his careful pacing around the room. Within minutes, my name is called out and I get up, walking the same path the other tributes before me had taken. Right before I go though, I send Clarissa an assuring thumbs-up right before I enter the room.

The first thing I notice upon walking in here is the strong smell of wine. I glance up at the Gamemakers, not able to hide my surprise. Is this why the lower Districts usually had higher scores, because by the time the lower Districts get here the Gamemakers are too buzzed to tell faces apart let alone score tributes? At this point they're not too sloshes so I take that as I good sign.

I immediately dart over to the axes and grab two hatchets, unable to hide the small grin that creeps up on my face. I spin around, putting momentum into my arm as I chuck the first hatchet at a dummy. It buries itself into the dummy's ribcage but the second throw goes a little off course, instead hitting the manikin's shoulder. It seemed promising enough and I motion for a trainer to come over, explaining that I wanted to wrestle. I give him the signal and we quickly meet, my hands grappling with his. Twisting them to the side I get him to turn and I quickly press my whole weight against him, pinning him down. It was easy enough and I still have a trick up my sleeve. I grab an incredibly large axe that would be ridiculous for chopping wood but perfectly intimidating for tributes and start hacking away at dummies. Towards the end though, I got a little too excited and lost my grip, sending the axe into the padded wall where it ended up sticking there.

I bow sheepishly to the Gamemakers and before they can dismiss me I quickly exit the room, worrying about how much trouble I'll be in for the wayward axe. I jog to the elevators, wanting to get away as quickly as possible and I step inside the glass box, pressing the desired button that would send me up. A hot shower sounds like the perfect thing at the moment.

By the time I bother to come out fresh and clean, its dinnertime. Tonight they release our training scores, which gives us a chance to prove ourselves and gain invaluable sponsors.

I chow down on steak and salad, not paying much attention to the table talk. Instead, my mind is more focused on what Marilyn is feeling right now, how my family is taking this, and what my friends are thinking of the whole thing. They're all gonna have to either watch my death or me kill someone while they are in school, or at home watching their TV, or even perhaps walking down in the Town Square while the many Capitol screen's play the Hunger Games throughout the districts. The sad thing about the Hunger Games is that no matter how hard you try, no one can get away from them.

Soon, all of us are sitting on a soft, velvet felted grey couch that's in a crescent shape, surrounding the TV while a table is placed in front of us for our feet, drinks, or food. Or, at least I'm using it for my feet. All of us are here; Clarissa, Elissa, Britannia, Janus, and even Clarissa's stylist, and we all stare at the screen until finally the scores are being released.

District 1: Jackson- 8. Nicole- 9.

District 2: Sparrow- 10. Minnie- 10.

District 3: A 3 and a 4 are shown.

District 4: Peri- 9. Adele- 8.

District 5: Augustan- 8. His partner gets a 5.

District 6: A 6 for the guy and a 4 for the girl.

District 7: My face and name flash up on the screen right before my score. An 8! There are cheers around me and someone slaps me on the back. I can't help but grin, an 8! That's great! Clarissa's face pops up and her score is shown, a 3. Surprisingly, out of all of us, Britannia is the one who consoles Clarissa of her small score but she is accepting of it, but also grateful to Britannia.

District 8: Both 5's.

District 9: Diego- 6. His partner gets a 4.

District 10: A 6 and a 2.

District 11: I'm stunned when Reece lands an 11. That's the highest score of the games so far! The Careers are gonna be out for blood for sure, Sparrow and Nicole have been eagerly awaiting the chance to rip Reece to shreds ever since the first day he mouthed off to them. I can practically hear Sparrow throwing a fit right now. Reece's partner gets a 4.

District 12: Ringo gets a 6 and Victoria gets a 5. I'm surprised that he got a better score than my fiery headed friend, and I'm left intensely curious of what he did to get that.

I soon find myself in my cool satin sheets, already drifting off to sleep. My last thoughts are of Marilyn and my family's reactions to seeing my score. I hope they're proud…


	4. Lights

Hello again everyone :) As you know, I am not exactly reliable. Still hope some people are enjoying my characters and ideas though- feel free to send in some tips or critique or just thoughts on these characters, its highly appreciated. Oh and also, cause these songs mean a lot to me with the story, I'll be posting the lyrics at the very bottom. Chapters already posted I'm just gonna go back and add them.

As you know, I do not date Skrillex nor can I sing and I certainly didn't get the idea of the Hunger Games off of watching war shows and the fashion world. So, enjoy~

Lights by Ellie Goulding

* * *

**-Logan, District 7 Tribute**

"Wake up!" Britannia screeches at me. I yelp in surprise at the piercing noise, which successfully pulled me out of sleep and promptly fall out of bed, the bed sheets thankfully wrapped around my body. I've come to sleeping naked here and I would have been horrified if Britannia found that fact out first hand.

I send a glare over in her direction, holding the sheets tightly against my body. "Get out! I have to change!" I bellow, completely pissed. A simple knock would have been good enough. Britannia's expression dips down into a deep frown, clearly not impressed with me. "You slept in, it's already noon. Today you're getting prepped for your interview tonight," she said coldly, her voice laced with annoyance. Then turning around with great pride, she slams my door closed.

I let an irritated sigh out, slowly getting to my feet and walking over to the door where I lock it. After tonight's interview I'll be sent into a mysterious arena with 23 blood lusting children who can't wait to see me dead. I scowl at the depressing thoughts and pull on some underwear, jeans, and a black and blue striped flannel shirt along with soft cotton socks.

For the next few hours I am drilled with lessons of etiquette and grace by Britannia, who is still angry at me because of earlier. Elissa is also there and she is growing increasingly frustrated at my horrible acting skills- so far I am unable to pull off an angle for the interviews. She's insisting I pull the intimidation card and despite the benefits I would get from sponsors for being arrogant or even bloodthirsty, I can't bring myself to act like that. It wouldn't feel right. So we have me be the most natural angle I can come up with- myself.

The moment that is decided, Janus appears, quickly herding me back down to the makeup rooms I had encountered before the chariot rides. Then I'm shoved into my prep teams waiting arms, Janus keeping a sharp eye on us. Having seen some of my acting lessons, he doesn't seem thrilled with my angle either. In fact, he just generally seems angry and me and my prep team are not spared from his scathing remarks.

Nero mutinously mutters about Janus and "mood pills" which causes Camilla to step sharply on his foot, eliciting a cry from Nero. Nero hisses at the unexpected pain from Camilla's 6 inch heels and Aurora nervously flits around the two bickering teammates.

I don't know what "mood pills" are but since it came from Nero he could easily be making things up. After all, the only things Nero seems to enjoy are critiquing me and saying bullshit statements. Aurora hands me a white long sleeve shirt that I button up, leaving the top two buttons undone so I don't feel choked. Camilla beams at me, "You have such pretty green eyes Logan. Its like I'm looking into a forest of pine! So green." She continues to sigh dreamily and make comforting statements about my looks. I laugh it off, both humoring my stylist and practicing being the nice guy for my interview. This however, causes Janus to yell at us to hurry up.

When they are done, they have me dressed in a clean, white button up shirt made of silk with pine green cuffs, wood brown suspender pants, shined leather shoes, and a simple pine green tie that both compliments my shirt cuffs and my eyes. The cuffs and tie practically appear to be made of pines so it's a very interesting design. Overall, it looks normal enough and I feel comfortable in it so it's a win-win for me.

Before I even know what's happening, I'm in the elevator with Elissa, Clarissa, Britannia, Janus, and Clarissa's stylist who is named Hera. Me and Clarissa depart from the elevator and join the numerically ordered line of tributes who are all waiting for this thing to start. Then single file, we all enter the stage, sitting down in chairs cast to the far side so we don't overshadow Caesar and whatever tribute he's interviewing. The crowd is roaring in approval at all of us and Caesar is making wise cracks, sitting in a large chair with a small table besides him and an equally as large but empty chair for us tributes. Our own chairs we're sitting in are comfortable and give us a good view at the interview, the numerous TV screens around, and the Capitol crowd.

At the sides of us and the crowd, in prime viewing spots, are the past 12 victors, the many stylists, and a number of Gamemakers. The balconies and roofs of nearby houses have been staked out by Capitol camera crews, reminding me that this interview will air out across the whole of Panem. Thank god I don't get stage fright because the square is absolutely packed, filled to the brim with a kaleidoscope of Capitolites, eagerly awaiting for the show to begin.

The sky is filled with faint golden rays at the edge as the indigo and dark navy blue of the sky start to take over. Still looking like Jack Frost, Caesar Flickerman is getting the crowd worked up for the first interview of the night while also expertly making jokes meant to calm us. Soon the interview begins and the girl from District 1, Nicole Forbes, is called up.

The crowd goes wild with approval as she saunters up on stage and I can't blame them. She was wearing a golden gown that seemed to shimmer with each little movement she took, a long slit up the side allowing her long tan, slender legs to be seen while her top is low enough to show just the right amount of cleavage. It's clear she went for the sexy angle and she pulled it off perfectly. She clicks over in gold high heels, sitting down and sending a seductive yet playful look at the crowd, causing them to somehow get even louder.

"So Nicole," Caesar begins, raising his voice slightly to be heard. The crowd respectfully quiets down, letting his booming voice be heard all around. "What's your favorite thing about the Capitol?" he asks. Watching the interview, I'm left stunned at this new interviewer. He really knows how to talk, easily calming down the tributes and crowd while getting laughs at the right time and he's able to compliment Nicole rather easily, no matter what answer she gives him. Just watching the easy exchange is enough to loosen my nerves up a little.

Three minutes later, Nicole walks off stage where her partner Jackson is called out. He walks out wearing a simple gold suit with a white undershirt and shoes, his collar devoid of any ties or bows. His long hair has been loosely tied back in a ponytail with a shiny gold ribbon. Somehow he looks rather stylish with it. His strawberry blond hair would look extremely attractive on a girl. I'm surprised to see that while his partner's angle was flashy and sexy, his is humble and quiet. He pulls it off well but you can just make out his underlying sly and clever comments. He's one to watch out for in the games.

The District 2 girl, Minerva something, has hair that's even longer than Jackson's, the natural platinum blonde strands reaching her waist. Its kinda odd to see all these blonde careers. In her interview, she is quiet and cold like ice, her intimidating emotionless stare sure to win her sponsors. Like the boy before her, her comments are sly and laced with thought, showing that she had a powerful mind behind her blonde hair.

Then loud, obnoxious, and arrogant Sparrow Byrd is on stage, egging the audience on into a screaming frenzy which takes Caesar several seconds to tame. Finally the crowd quiets just enough though. Sparrow is in a simple black and silver suit, the silver appearing almost shiny and metallic. During his interview, I learn that Sparrow is an even bigger dick than he portrays himself to be. He claims he has only three women worth something to him in his life and that all others are nothing more. They turn out to be his mother, sister, and girlfriend, none of which he smartly names, though I'm sure the Gamemakers have files of everyone's life.

Caesar can't help but smile, his ice blue brows raised. "Well, what's your girl's name?" Sparrow just barks out a laugh, sending a devious smirk at the cameras. "Well, funny you should ask 'cause literally no one knows of our relationship. You could call it an affair even. Maybe in the arena if I'm feeling good I'll let ya'll know."

The whole audience whines at the anti-climactic letdown but Caesar is moving on, clapping Sparrow good naturedly on the shoulder. "So Sparrow, everyone's wondering, what's with the name?" I can immediately tell Sparrow is irked by the question because his jaw clenches.

He gives a forced smile that almost looks painful and answers, "I just chock it up to my mother having a sense of humor." A moment later his buzzer sounds and he quickly walks off, failing to hide his scowl from the cameras as he sat down in his seat. Looks like we all just learned a way to piss him off.

Eventually Peri Sorenson from District 4 is called, wearing an all-white tuxedo and tie, a lone fishhook hanging from a necklace around his throat. "That's an interesting necklace you've got there," Caesar remarks over the audiences heart throbbing screams, also noticing the detail. Peri just gives a confident, lazy smirk as he sits down all sultry, his pink tongue briefly showing as he licked his lips, sending a wink at the crowd. His legs are also spread, leaving nothing to the imagination of the Capitol crowd.

Strangely, the first question seems to somber him up as he sends Caesar a warm smile, his eyes slightly unfocused as he reminisced about some memory. "Yeah, my little brother Kristian gave it to me, it's my tribute token," he revealed. The crowd screams to hear more and Peri gives a thoughtful nod.

Fingering his necklace, another natural smile appears on his face. "Funny story with this hook: We were out fishing on our boat and I foolishly drew the pole back- I'm not exactly the best fisherman, that's my brother's job- and you're not supposed to do that! So I casted the line out and almost immediately I get a bite. Kris has started screeching at me- rather angrily too, he must have picked up some of my vocabulary- and turns out, I had hooked his ear. At least now he can wear earrings," he laughed. The crowd laughs along with him though I can't help but wince at that thought. That hook looked rather sharp.

"Oh I absolutely love my brother Kristian. He's actually my half-brother though due to us having different fathers which gave us different last names. My father died when I was young, really young, and mom remarried and had Kris shortly after. Kris is the best fisherman alive that I have ever known but remember little bro, I'm still the better singer and I have a waayyyyy better track record with relationships than you do." That last part is aimed at the cameras as he poked fun at his brother who was thousands of miles away in some District 4 house.

Caesar lets out a chuckle, "A 9 in training, great looks, what other talents are you hiding Mr. Sorenson?" Peri gives a grin, "Well, on the side me and my brother have a fun time of being musicians. Course, Kris is better on the instrument side but I can play the cello and he can't. Also, as said before, I'm the stronger singer."

Caesar honestly looks curious now along and the whole crowd starts screaming for Peri to sing, begging to hear the albino's voice. Peri just grins and teasingly pauses, thinking about it before giving the crowd what they want. He gently clears his throat and starts to sing a few notes from a song.

His voice is melodic and deep, his lungs letting him hold notes with such a power I'm surprised it doesn't leave him breathless. The song ends and the crowd erupts into a deafening cheer. Peri sends the crowd a satisfied smirk, bows, and waltz off stage as his buzzer blares. Caesar starts clapping, "Peri Sorenson, everybody!" and the crowd once again goes wild for the lanky albino. He must have about a million of sponsors by now.

Augustan is called up shortly after, wearing a modest crimson suit with golden amber outlining it, probably representing the sun. Augustan sends the crowd his dazzling smile which eagerly returns it. His angle seems to be elusive, his actions modest. He's clearly trying to not draw attention to himself.

"So Augustan, what are your thoughts on the other tributes?" Caesar asks, curious as to why this average boy got such a high score usually only gained by careers. "Mmm, I think I can win. They're all weak minded, prone to breaking. As for my score, you will soon find out tomorrow how I got it," he replies cheerfully. Throughout his interview, his comments are a little off, a threat laced within the words. His mentor seems to have tried to help him with his awkward social skills but it's appears he needs more work.

Then, just like that, its me being called out onto the stage. The crowd cheers and I walk over, a smile on my face as I shake Caesar's considerably smaller hand. "My goodness, Logan, you must be the tallest tribute we've had to date!" he exclaims.

I laugh and wave the comment away. I know the careers have their eyes on me, no need to make a point of it. "Caesar, you dog. Flattering me like that, I expect a date after those types of comments," I reply. I have the whole crowd laughing and I think it's a good thing. So far this is putty in my hands.

"What do you like most about the Capitol?" he asks, repeating that popular question. I pause, thinking about it before answering. "The showers are nice. I found this great mixture that smells like mint leaves and pine that is rather invigorating." The crowd is once again laughing at my unusual answer, which is strange considering what I said wasn't that funny at all.

"Anyone you're looking forward to getting back home to?" Caesar asks me next. Once again I'm thinking about what to say and I decide to be honest.

"I've got this great girl at home named Marilyn. She's way too smart for me, it's a blessing she hasn't left yet."

Caesar quickly spits out another question. "What did you do back home? A desk job?" he jokes, getting some of our spirited banter back.

I send him an easy-going smile, "Eh, you could say I'm the adventurous type so a desk job would get pretty dull for me. As stereotypical as it is, I'm a lumberjack, cutting down trees to make paper and furniture and whatever other goods are made from wood." Caesar nods at this and I decide to wrap things up nicely.

I gently place my right elbow on the table between us casually, sending a carefree smirk at Caesar. "So, how about that arm wrestling match you wanted?" I ask, my tone playful and friendly. The crowd immediately starts screeching their accented voices off, remembering the Reaping conversation he had with Apollo Guildenwood that I'm now referencing.

Humoring me, Caesar gives a laugh and places his elbow down on the table besides mine, grasping my hand. Its ridiculous how much larger I am to this man, who probably is around 5'9 or something.

The audience starts off a short countdown before screaming for it to begin. Caesar grunts and comically struggles to move my arm but I don't budge an inch. Even when using his second hand to try to shake my grip he gets nothing from me. Agonizingly slow, I start to push Caesar's hand down, the crowd just loving our interaction.

Then before I can pin Caesar Flickerman's hand down the buzzer rings, signaling that my time today is over. Caesar jokingly declares it a tie to the crowd and I can't help but let out an honest chuckle. If things were different, I might actually like this guy and his humor. With my time up I get up and give a bow, pausing to jokingly flex my arm I wrestled Caesar with before walking off and sitting down with the other tributes, the crowd's raucous laughter following me.

My buddy Diego of District 9 is quiet and solemn in a dark suit, his dull expressionless eyes conveying the helpless knowledge that he believes he has no chance in these games. Reece from 11 is wearing some very earth inspired clothes and gives a proud performance, enough so that I can hear Sparrow hissing death threats from under his breath all those seats in front of me. From 12 is the little Victoria, looking very pretty in a fitting black dress that shows off her curves well and accentuates her fire-like hair. She comes off as friendly and down to earth which I find rather attractive. I would sponsor her if I could. Next is the nose picker himself, Ringo. For the love of Panem this kid makes me want a drink. He boasts to the disbelieving crowd that he can beat both me and Sparrow singlehandedly on the facts that where our brains are placed is in fact just more muscle. I can hear Victoria's audible facepalm and Sparrow is too busy glaring daggers at Reece to care about an empty threat. I can't help but give Sparrow props for being able to ignore Ringo because I know I certainly can't. Ringo ends it saying he can win and he walks off, the crowd applauding for him and the rest of us as the interview ends.

The anthem starts playing and we're lead backstage where there are some large fancy cars waiting for us which take us to the Training Center. As I shuffle to the elevator with the others I can't help but realize tonight is the last night of our lives before we are sent into the 13th Hunger Games.

Getting there, I immediately toss my tie and shoes somewhere, unbuttoning my shirt to a ridiculous amount as I make myself a large plate of food. I had heard from Reece about there being a roof on top of the District 12 floor and I plan on using it for a last night feast.

I get there and open the door only to quickly realize that three is a bit of a crowd- Peri and his district partner, Adele, are hot and heavy, their clothes barely hanging on their entwined limbs as their tongues hungrily lap for the other. As quietly and quickly as I can I leave, sending myself down to my floor and giving a tribute from 10 a warning not to go up there. I end up eating my food in my room, though I'm careful not to overstuff myself like I did on the train. When I finish my food I place it on the nightstand and strip, laying down on the soft bed and staring out at the multicolored Capitol city through the glass wall. It appears that there is a party down below from the faint cheering and whooping I can hear.

Tomorrow morning these very people will be sending me off to die what will probably be a horrible death. I'm not good at math in any way but even I know that the odds of 1 in 24 surviving is very little. 23 people will be trying to kill me and I might end up taking a few out on my way. I desperately hope things won't get to that though, I'm not ready to stain my soul with the guilt of having someone's blood on my hands. If I do have to kill someone I'd rather have it be a Career; anyone who volunteers for certain death is a madman who should have their brain scanned.

Eventually my worries disappear as my conscious slips into a state of darkness, my dreams filled with the cries and screams of children as candy colored beasts laugh and rip the children to bloody shreds.

* * *

_I had a way then losing it all on my own  
I had a heart then but the queen has been overthrown  
And I'm not sleeping now, the dark is too hard to beat  
And I'm not keeping now the strength I need to push me_

You show the lights that stop me turn to stone  
You shine it when I'm alone  
And so I tell myself that I'll be strong  
And dreaming when they're gone

'Cause they're calling, calling, calling me home  
Calling, calling, calling home  
You show the lights that stop me turn to stone  
You shine it when I'm alone home

Noises I play within my head  
Touch my own skin and hope that I'm still breathing.  
And I think back to when my brother of my sister slept  
In an unknown place the only time I feel safe

You show the lights that stop me turn to stone  
You shine it when I'm alone  
And so I tell myself that I'll be strong  
And dreaming when they're gone

'Cause they're calling, calling, calling me home  
Calling, calling, calling home  
You show the lights that stop me turn to stone  
You shine it when I'm alone home

Yeah, hee

Light, lights, lights, lights  
Light, lights, lights, lights  
Light, lights, lights, lights  
Light, lights

You show the lights that stop me turn to stone  
You shine it when I'm alone  
And so I tell myself that I'll be strong  
And dreaming when they're gone

'Cause they're calling, calling, calling me home  
Calling, calling, calling home  
You show the lights that stop me turn to stone  
You shine it when I'm alone home

Home, home  
Light, lights, lights, lights  
Light, lights, lights, lights

Home, home  
Light, lights, lights, lights  
Light, lights, lights, lights

Home, home  
Light, lights, lights, lights  
Light, lights, lights, lights

Home, home  
Light, lights, lights, lights  
Light, lights, lights, lights


End file.
